Play the Part
by Henrietta R. Hippo
Summary: It was nine years ago that Feliciano lost his grandpa, and nine years since his brother last cracked a smile. Now the past has come back to haunt them, and Feliciano realises just how big it really is; could this man with blond hair he keeps seeing in his dreams and in photographs be the key to his grandpa's disappearance? Germany/Italy
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Play the Part  
****  
Pairings: Germany/Italy, one-sided Germania/Rome**

******It was nine years ago that Feliciano lost his grandpa, and nine years since his brother last cracked a smile. Now the past has come back to haunt them, and Feliciano realises just how big it really is; could this man with blond hair he keeps seeing in his dreams and in photographs be the key to his grandpa's disappearance? **

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The six-story block of desolate flats had never looked quite so bleak to Feliciano before as it did that evening. Ever the cheery optimist; the Italian was nothing but pleased with his and his brother's small, two-bedroom flat on the fourth floor of this grimy, graffiti strewn structure. That same ginger cat that often greeted Feliciano on his way home from work was waiting, as always, in the small alley for him beside that murky puddle that was ever present on the pavement, even on scorching summer days that lit up the building's dazzling off-white paint and made it a complete eyesore for any unsuspecting passers by. Pookie, the Italian had affectionately named the stray, sat up when the man approached and moved towards his outstretched hand for a scratch behind the ear. The cat had been kept waiting longer than usual for his stroke and leftover ham sandwiches from Feliciano that day; by the time the man had arrived the sun had well and truly vanished below the horizon.

Feliciano zipped up his bag after distributing his leftovers, patted Pookie once more before letting himself into the side entrance of the building. The familiar stench of rubbish bags and urine greeted his senses and the Italian hurried to the lift opposite and rang for it. He waited patiently yet with that ever present uneasiness that came with living in a building with such unpredictable occupants. It hadn't been that long ago that Feliciano had been whisked to the emergency room following a drunken row with one of the downstairs neighbours over a disagreement with his girlfriend. From what the young man could pick up on during his intoxicated ramblings; this man's girl had apparently let slip that she had somewhat of an infatuation for Feliciano, something he found rather difficult to take as a compliment.

All was still, however, that night and surprisingly quiet. No coked up madman jumped into the lift with him at the last second and demanded Feliciano give up his shoes to him -and how the young man wished that that were something he'd just made up and not a personal experience-, no middle aged woman with her dozen and a half kids piled in after him, clamouring at his feet and telling him all about how much of a nice man he was whilst their mother batted her eyes and gave him rather a disturbing 'come hither' look. Feliciano often wondered what it would be like to have normal neighbours again. But he reasoned that, in such a decrepit, government owned building, you weren't likely to meet people you could trust.

Feliciano was graced with having the lift all to himself; the urine smell was distressingly potent in the confined space and he held his breath for the duration of the ride up to the fourth floor. The Italian clutched his bag tightly as the lift came to a shuddering, creaky halt and released his hold only when the doors slid open and the fourth floor corridor was shown to be empty. Realising just how late Feliciano was when he glimpsed the dark sky out of the narrow glass window at the end of the hall; the Italian practically ran to the flat marked number eight and jammed his keys into the door. Any hope that his older brother would be fast asleep and unaware of his return were dashed before he'd even pushed the heavy door open.

"Why are you so late?" were the scornful words that greeted Feliciano the moment his key unlocked the door.

Feliciano smiled weakly as he shuffled into the dim light of the kitchen where the foul glare of his sibling watched him. "I was on the close." came the meek reply. Feliciano eyed the kitchen counter and felt a pang of guilt to see the stone-cold plate of tagliatelle that had been waiting for him.

Lovino gave a grunt of annoyance and rubbed his tired eyes, "Never this late, isn't there some kind of law against forcing people to work this many extra hours at a time?" the short Italian was already dressed in his jogging bottoms and vest top, ready for bed.

Feliciano looked at his brother sadly, "You didn't have to wait up for me, fratello." he dropped his bag by the door and went to offer the man a hug, but was met with a rather stilted look.

"Of course I did, it's not safe around this neighbourhood, I was this close to calling the police." Lovino held up his index finger and thumb in his brother's face, and Feliciano couldn't help but notice with yet another pang, how they trembled ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry." Feliciano offered quietly, "Next time I'll just tell them I can't stay."

"No." Lovino almost growled with frustration, but whether at him or himself, the Italian couldn't decipher, "Don't go getting yourself fired, just eat your damn dinner and go to bed."

Lovino dodged another hug automatically and dropped himself onto the sofa in the living room, Feliciano knew it to be pointless insisting he get some sleep, even though he looked like he desperately needed it, until he himself was ready to go to bed as well. The Italian sighed, scooped up the cold dish on the counter and shoved it in the microwave.

"It won't be nearly as good after re-heating it..." Lovino grumbled from the cushions, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

Feliciano jumped up onto one of the bar stools whilst his pasta slowly rotated behind him, "I said I was sorry." he tried asserting himself further only to revert back to his quiet mumble when Lovino turned on the sofa to glare at him. "I didn't mean to take so long."

"It's stupid." Lovino shook his head, lifting himself up to straddle the arm of the sofa. "Your shift was supposed to finish at eight, it's almost midnight...I thought that Cara girl was on close?" he asked slowly.

Feliciano shrugged a little too aggressively, "I don't know, she needed extra help closing up so I stayed."

"Why does it take over three hours to close up a café?" Lovino spoke slowly, getting to his feet.

Feliciano spun around on the stool to face the microwave, his heart started to drum faster beneath his work apron. "We had an incident...kids threw up everywhere, big mess, we had to disinfect everything." he blurted out nervously, the Italian hopped down and stood with his arms folded directly in font of the microwave, watching his food rotate with intensity.

The Italian could feel his older brother standing behind him, and see his dark stare in the reflection on the glass from over his shoulder. "Feliciano, it does not take three hours to clean up a place as small as that, no matter how much those kids threw up." the cold tone Lovino took with his brother left no doubt in Feliciano's mind that he knew he was lying to him.

Feliciano swallowed slowly, watching his pasta intently through the glass window. "...it was a big mess." he muttered pathetically, his inventiveness when it came to fibbing had never been up to scratch.

For a few tense minutes; Lovino and Feliciano stood, one in front of the other, neither willing to back down or admit defeat, although the younger of the two came very close. He could feel his brother's gaze burning into the back of his head but he remained strong and resilient for once, after all he'd had quite a lot of practice over the last nine years.

Eventually, and to Feliciano's surprise, it was Lovino who moved first. He stepped back and went to the other side of the counter and Feliciano sighed with relief just as the microwaved beeped at him and came to a stop. Before he could even retrieve his steaming food, however; Feliciano heard a rustling noise behind him, and the sound a zip being slid open.

"Lovino!" Feliciano cried, he spun around and saw what he feared, his older brother had a hold of his bag and was rooting around inside.

"I knew you were hiding something!" Lovino snapped, he twisted himself around the backpack as Feliciano dived across the counter to reach for it.

"Give it back! I'm not hiding anything!" Feliciano knew it was already a lost battle, he fell to the kitchen floor as Lovino hopped out of his way and ran to the living room, desperately trying to find what Feliciano desperately wanted to keep hidden.

Lovino began piling his brother's belongings onto the floor and scrambled through the array of pens, papers, water bottle and other bits and bobs before he found what he was looking for. The Italian grabbed a battered photograph that had been stuffed right at the very bottom of the bag and jumped up onto the sofa, holding it up in front of his face which had fallen into a deep grimace.

"For fuck sake, Feliciano..." Lovino didn't sound angry or enraged, he just sounded tired.

Feliciano got up from the floor, hanging his head rather sheepishly, "Lovino, I can explain-"

"You went back to the old house again, didn't you?" his brother asked him, his brown eyes burning into the photo in his hand.

Feliciano sighed, he reached up for his brother's hand but Lovino dodged away, keeping a tight grip on the photograph. "Lovino I just wanted to look around, collect some things that were left." he said gently.

"You're not allowed to be there, you idiot. Do you want to be arrested again?" the Italian's voice wavered noticeably and he cleared his throat. "What do you want with this piece of crap, anyway?" he muttered, haphazardly flicking the photo away from him and jumping down from the sofa. Feliciano hurried to catch it before it touched the ground, carefully smoothing it out. Lovino watched him and sighed with frustration. "Feliciano, don't go back there again, I mean it. I'm going to bed." the Italian spoke softly, almost without any conviction. Lovino distractedly tidied the coffee table in front of him before sloping off towards the bedrooms.

Feliciano stared after him, his body felt strangely numb and he blurted out his words before he could stop himself. "I don't hate him, Lovino."

His brother stopped just short of his bedroom door but didn't turn to look at him. "I know you don't."

"I...I just think there's more to it." Feliciano grappled on, knowing he was digging where he really shouldn't. "I don't think we fully understand what happened, and I want to know, Lovino."

"Fine." his brother barely even spoke, he pushed open the door in front of him rather violently. "Goodnight."

"Lovino," Feliciano walked towards him, "why can't we ever talk about it-"

"I SAID," Lovino burst out suddenly, halting Feliciano on the spot; the Italian took a deep breath and composed himself. "...goodnight." he finished softly, closing the door behind him, but not without revealing his shining eyes to his brother for a split second before he left for bed.

Feliciano stared at the closed door for a few moments before returning to the kitchen for his pasta which, for once, he didn't really have the stomach for. He kept hold of the photograph carefully with his thumb and index finger in one hand whilst he ate, managing to polish off the entire bowl despite his unease. Feliciano cleaned up the kitchen, re-packed his bag, turned off the lights and headed to his bedroom, momentarily stopping outside of his brother's room to press his ear against the door and listen. He heard Lovino's bedsprings creak as he tossed and turned during another restless night; the Italian hesitated, wanting to knock and see if he could find some way to have the discussion he'd wanted to have for years. His heart wouldn't allow it. Even the mere mention sent his brother off into an emotional rampage and he couldn't bear to see it.

Instead he retired into his own, smaller room, hung up his jacket and bag on the hook by the door, navigated his way past the tower of cardboard boxes and flopped down onto his narrow bed in the corner. Feliciano didn't bother with the light, or even getting undressed for bed. He lay, face down for a long while, the photo still in hand, just listening to the traffic buzzing outside, even at this hour. Occasionally the sound of laughter and shouts could be heard from people returning to the building after a heavy night of drinking, but he didn't hear Lovino screaming at them to be quiet from out of his bedroom window this time.

It was almost one in the morning when Feliciano finally sat up, rather dizzy with tiredness. He kicked off his shoes and moved towards the boxes he'd neglected to unpack since moving in. Even though he'd had almost a year to do so. In the box on top he retrieved his photo album, a nice leather bound one he'd bought last month to house the memories Feliciano had been collecting over time. It wasn't even half full yet, and most of the pages only had one or two pictures slotted into each one. Feliciano flicked carefully through the album until he came to a clean page where he slid his newly acquired photograph into the opaque casing. The corner was slightly bent out of shape from where Lovino had been holding it and Feliciano closed the album gently to smooth out this crease.

It was only during the night time that the Italian had the urge to sort out his room, he lost the will in the day; he still needed to set up the bookcase he'd bought several months ago since their last flat hadn't come with one, neither did this one. The parts were all there in a box at the end of Feliciano's bed, he'd even purchased a hammer and screwdriver ready to build it himself but had lost the drive to do so almost as soon as he'd started. It didn't matter so much for him to own a bookcase, he only had his album, a few recipe books and a couple of old children's stories that Lovino read to him as a boy. Still, it would be nice to have something more to fill the empty space with.

Feliciano sighed, finally disrobed and crawled back into bed. The heating had gone off again in the early evening and it was freezing cold and almost impossible to get comfy. The Italian hadn't had a good nights sleep in a very long time, and not once whilst living in this apartment. Nine years didn't seem that long on paper, but to him it felt like a lifetime ago; a lifetime of unanswered questions and doubt, of pain and confusion and a family torn apart. Feliciano's promise to himself was the same that night as it had been since that night nine years ago. Somehow, and some way; he would find out what had happened to his grandfather.

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**My first fanfic in over a year, forgive me if I'm a little rusty. Not sure how long it's going to be, may add a couple more pairings later, let me know what you think so far, rating may change to M. It's good to be back.**

**Reviews are love :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Play the Part**

** Pairings: Germany/Italy, one-sided Germania/Rome**

**It was nine years ago that Feliciano lost his grandpa, and nine**** years since his brother last cracked a smile. Now the past has come back to haunt them, and Feliciano realises just how big it really is; could this man with blond hair he keeps seeing in his dreams and in photographs be the key to his grandpa's disappearance?**

* * *

_There was always something so eerie about being left alone as a child, even with an older sibling watching over from the kitchen as he microwaved some beans in a bowl after struggling for ten minutes to open the tin with a knife. Lovino hid his bleeding fingers that had been sliced by the sharp edges of the tin whilst his little brother sat quietly on the rug in front of the fireplace, drawing with crayons. He would eventually come over; one hand behind his back that had been wrapped up in kitchen roll, and then they'd sit together in front of the motionless coals and eat the warm beans with a spoon. _

"_I'll put you to bed when you're done." his voice was clear, close._

"_I want to stay up." _

"_No, Feliciano." always the stern tone, "It's bed time."_

"_I'm never awake to see him home."_

"_I know." a waver, a undetectable stammer, "That's the point."_

"_But-" _

"Feliciano."

"_..it's not fair-"_

"Feliciano."

"_..why don't I get to see-"_

"Feliciano!"

The Italian woke with a jolt and a noise of surprise to find Lovino standing over him, dressed up for work and holding out the phone towards him.

"It's that Cara, she's calling from work." Lovino handed his dazed brother the phone and straightened up, checking his watch. "I'll be late for my class if I don't leave right now, I'll see you later. Don't be late home." the Italian called after him, already halfway out of the flat before Feliciano even lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Feliciano murmured into the device with a yawn.

"Hi Feliciano, it's Cara." the usually cheerful, sweet ringing voice of his co-worker sounded somewhat stilted from the other end.

"Ciao, is everything okay? I thought I wasn't supposed to be in until this afternoon-" the Italian shot up in bed, his eyes wide. "did I get the wrong day? Am I late?" he was already up and rummaging through his underwear drawer before he heard her sigh on the other end and he stopped moving to listen.

"No, I know. But listen, I'm in the bathroom right now, just thought I should warn you that Elizaveta is pissed with you." the young woman spoke quickly, her voice rather muffled from trying to conceal the fact that she was on the phone.

"What, why?"

"Well she's not happy that you left early yesterday."

"Oh...I thought you said you would cover for me."

"I did! It's just that some drunk guy came in here when we were about to close up and made a huge mess, knocked everything off the counters and out of the fridge, he even got into the stock room and was just being a complete dick." Cara babbled with frustration. "The police had to be called and everything! Anyway, it took forever to clean up after him and Elizaveta was so annoyed that there was no one to help me and her cause you and that new guy had gone home early so...yeah, I don't think she's happy with you."

Feliciano sighed, carefully pulling on a pair of boxers with one hand whilst gripping the phone to his ear with the other. "Sometimes I don't think she ever is...I guess I'll come in now then." he muttered.

"I think that would be best, the stock room is still a mess and no one is free to tidy it." Cara's voice trailed off slightly and Feliciano heard a door being unlatched, "I really have to go, I'll see you in a bit." the phone cut off before the Italian could voice a response.

Feliciano let the phone slip from his fingers and drop to the floor as he lay his tired head back down in bed for a few long moments. He had been looking forward to his late morning immensely that week and, as much as he did feel he owed it to Cara, he certainly wasn't feeling up to going into work so early. The Italian rubbed his amber eyes open and stared blearily up at the peeling ceiling above his head for a few seconds before dragging his fatigued body up and out of bed. Feliciano doused himself in deodorant for a make-shift shower, pulled on his clothes from last night and grabbed a piece of toast his brother had made for him off the kitchen table on his way out of the door.

The Italian took the stairs for a change in an attempt to energise himself by running full pelt down four flights, his backpack swinging widely at his side. Despite his sudden onset of morning hunger, Feliciano was unable to quell the guilt inside him to see a homeless man squatting in the alley where his cat normally would whilst he was holding onto a fresh piece of toast. Although immediately regretting it, and wishing he wouldn't be so easily taken advantage of, the Italian handed his breakfast over as he sped past. The man grunted a nod of thanks, which was just about enough to keep Feliciano from demanding it back.

Once Feliciano was far enough away from his temporary home and into the town it actually wasn't quite the dodgy, backwash neighbourhood that his brother claimed it to be. In fact in some areas, such as the main shopping area where he worked as a barista; it was actually a rather sweet town. Old fashioned and cute, so long as you avoided certain dark corners that popped up occasionally. It was a strange mismatched sort of place, like two towns had collided, – a sunshiny, adorable, rustic village, and a grimy, backstreet, crime infested pit - both mashed together to make one unusual place to live.

The sky was wonderfully clear with a slight smattering of clouds that Feliciano couldn't fully enjoy with the thought of his upcoming lecture from the manager, yet how was he to know what would happen at the café after he'd left? Admittedly, he always felt he was being rather unfair to poor Cara and the other employees when he took early leave, if only they knew the circumstances perhaps he wouldn't feel like such a burden to them. He knew his brother was right, however, Feliciano would certainly be fired if he kept it up.

The café was a good twenty minutes away but Feliciano's bus pass had expired over three weeks ago and he was far to nervous and meek to try to bustle his way on without paying. He had just come to the end of the long, straight road up from his block of flats to the edge of the main city centre when a familiar, tired looking face appeared around the corner of the police station he was passing.

"Oh." the man awkwardly blurted out, stepping from side to side for a moment in front of Feliciano. "Hi, hi Feliciano." the British police detective laughed rather nervously, forcing himself to stop the bizarre little dance he was doing.

"Hi Arthur." Feliciano said softly to his old acquaintance. Arthur was older than Feliciano, he was of slim build, very pale and had a mop of messy blond hair and rather fetching green eyes. Feliciano had known him since he was a child, but it had been a while since they'd last spoke.

Arthur continued to strain a smile, not quite able to meet his gaze, "It's good to see you." the Brit muttered somewhere in his direction. After a long silence, where neither he nor the Italian moved to get out of each other's way; Arthur rubbed his eyes, and sighed. "Look Feliciano," he said firmly, finally meeting his eyes, "I know why you're here but there's nothing else I can do for you at this time, anyway as it stands I've got a full schedule today and I really don't have any time to talk so if you like you can come back another time but right now-"

"Arthur, Arthur," Feliciano stopped the man's ramblings, "It's okay, I'm just on my way to work, I wasn't here to see you."

"Oh." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and then seemed a little embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I hope you have a nice day Feliciano." the Brit tipped his hat in that overly polite way he often did to take his leave.

Feliciano smiled weakly, "Say hi to Francis for me." he called behind him as Arthur jogged up the steps of the police station.

Arthur gave him a brief smile in acknowledgement of his request before he disappeared into the building, looking rather blessed to be away from him. Feliciano tried not to take this personally, he knew Arthur didn't dislike him in any way, he hoped so at least; he was just a busy man who needed to get on with things, the Italian knew that.

Feliciano carried on his journey, walking determinedly towards his destination whilst trying to distract his mind from being filled with nostalgia at seeing the Brit. It was far too early in the morning to depress himself by thinking about it, he needed to remain as cheerful and upbeat as possible when dealing with his manager; Elizaveta hated it when her employees were dismal. Even though Cara had told him she was angry, Feliciano knew it wouldn't be something he couldn't talk his way around. Elizaveta wasn't a mean person, she was passionate, passionate about her business and clearly upset over the mess and mayhem from last night that Feliciano wasn't there to help with.

The café sat in between a bank and a bookshop, and as a result the majority of its customers were either disgruntled, sweaty people tired from their long, pointless bank appointments; or happy, chilled out people enjoying a drink whilst they read their new book purchase. It was a good mix, the place was often full inside and out so there was never really a dull moment. Not that working at The Vixen was something Feliciano wanting to be doing for the rest of his life, but with no savings for university or any other educational prospects the young man didn't really have any other options, for now at least.

"You're here early." was what greeted the Italian when he stepped over the threshold into the bustling café.

Feliciano smiled wearily, trying to seem sincere. "I heard about the incident last night, thought you could use an extra hand around here." he told his Hungarian manager. Elizaveta was a young woman of just twenty-five, she'd bought the café from a friend before he moved abroad when she was only nineteen and had been running it single-handedly ever since. She was incredibly beautiful, with long, wavy brunette hair, sweet green eyes and an air of general kindness and honesty. The manager was often asked after by male customers requesting dates and had even received a couple of marriage proposals in the time Feliciano had worked there, they were always turned down though, of course.

Elizaveta didn't look her usual friendly self at that moment whilst talking to her young employee, yet she couldn't stop her eyes from softening after Feliciano spoke. "Last night would have been more useful." she muttered, handing Feliciano a broom from behind the counter. "But I guess it's better late than never, you can clean up the stock room please." the Hungarian spoke in that professional manner she saved for the view of customers but her grateful smile filled Feliciano with reassurance and he complied, giving Cara a brief nod as he passed the service counter where she was serving drinks, he went through the staff door beside the toilets into the back room.

Cara hadn't been over exaggerating in her outrage at the state of the place. The drunk patron had made quick work of the stock room by the looks of things, seemingly wanting to cause as much havoc and damage as possible for some reason. The stock room housed the coffee beans and cups, as well as spare parts for the coffee machines and the ingredients used for sandwiches that Feliciano or someone usually made daily. Two barrels of coffee beans had been smashed to bits and the beans lay in large heaps on the floor; cups and cup sleeves had been poured out of their boxes, some were nestled in the coffee beans and others were ripped apart and now useless; lettuce heads and tuna cans that were kept in the fridge, which was still wide open, lay strewn across the floor at the Italian's feet.

For a few long moments, Feliciano just stared at the mess, his mind ever so slowly working. He lay the broom against the wall and closed the fridge door, with some difficulty, hitched his trousers up around his ankles and waded his way through the turmoil to get to the coffee bean barrels. He spent the next three hours in the stock room cleaning up, empting the unusable food into bin bags and trying to salvage what could be saved. It was dimly lit inside the small room, there were no windows, and it made the Italian rather drowsy as he worked, as if it were still early morning and his sleep had been disrupted. By the time he'd swept up all of the coffee beans and collected all of the cups still in workable condition Feliciano felt unusually exhausted. He sat on one of the barrels in the corner that had been left untouched and leant back against the wall, resting his head against the shelf, he closed his tired eyes for just a brief moment...

"_I don't want you two to panic, okay? You're not in trouble." Arthur took a seat opposite the two children, he was holding onto a file and trying to look as none threatening as possible._

"_Oui, we're not 'ere to hurt you, just talk." another man said, he was leaning back against a closed door, arms folded across his chest. _

_Feliciano felt a hand take his under the table and squeeze it. "Where's our grandfather?" Lovino asked the Brit, his pre-pubescent voice squeaked quietly._

"_We need to ask you some questions, okay?" Arthur repeated, carefully avoiding the question. "Could you do that for us?" he took out a small, black box from his pocket and placed in on the kitchen table and pressed the record button._

"_Why?" Lovino's voice quivered, his eyes were becoming bright with unshed tears but the older boy tried to be defiant, Feliciano was already sobbing, whether out of fear or confusion, he wasn't sure._

_Arthur, on some kind of fatherly instinct, got up and went to Feliciano's side. Lovino grabbed his brother's arm and tugged him away from the detective as he went to console him. Arthur smiled sadly, and took a small handful of sweets out of his other pocket. "Here." he placed them on the table in front of the boys. "Why don't you have those whilst you talk to us, they'll make you feel better."_

"_Arthur zis iz taking too long." Francis scorned the other man, he jumped into the seat his colleague had been sat in, rummaging through the file left on the table. _

"_Francis, we need to be considerate, they're just children." the Brit hissed quietly from where he was kneeling beside the Italian brothers._

"_If we don't get the information soon it'll be too late." the Frenchman shot back, he produced a large photograph from the file and held it up to Feliciano and Lovino. "Boys, do you know zis man?"_

_Arthur gently touched Feliciano's arm,"Don't worry if you don't, we just need to know if you've ever seen him before, okay?"_

"_Of course they 'ave, we know he's been 'ere."_

"_Francis please stop being an arse, you're going about this the wrong way."_

"_I just want to get information, I don't care if they're kids!"_

"_You're not being sensitive to the case!"_

"_Zere's no time for sensitivity!"_

_The argument slowly faded out and became nothing more than drowned out voices that sounded distant and incoherent, as though they were trying to compete with the noise of groups of people sat in a café. Lovino seemed to vanish, even the kitchen was becoming unrecognisable. But the photograph in the Frenchman's hands was hanging there in Feliciano's vision as clear as day. A face. A close up of a very familiar, haunting face. The Italian had not seen that face in real life for a long, long time. In fact sometimes he wasn't even sure he had ever met that face in real life, or whether he'd just been so transfixed by it, by that man, that he'd invented a scenario in his mind where he had encountered him before. Light, almost pale you could call it, blue eyes that cut right through the small boy, and long, sleek-_

"Feliciano?" the Italian woke with a jump that almost toppled the barrel right over as he slid off, he managed to catch it just before the lid loosened and came off. Elizaveta was standing in the doorway, watching him carefully.

"Sorry, I was just resting." Feliciano said hurriedly, he grabbed the broom and made a show of sweeping the clean floor.

"It's okay, you've worked hard I can see." she smiled at the young man, any grouchiness she felt towards him that morning had clearly been withdrawn when she saw the immaculate state of the stock room.

Feliciano smiled weakly, rubbing his eyes. "Grazie, I think I'm done in here now."

"Yes, I would send you out to the front but that Simon boy has showed up at last. Your actual shift for today started about two hours ago but if you like you can head home early for today, I don't think we need you." the Hungarian said, tucking her long hair back into the yellow bandanna she often wore.

"Oh, okay, thank you." Feliciano wasn't sure whether he was glad of this or not.

"Please keep your phone on, just in case there's another incident and I need you back." Elizaveta grinned, the first instant the Italian had seen her act like herself all day. "Have a nice afternoon off, I'll see you tomorrow."

Feliciano left work just before two o clock, he hadn't had so much free time to himself in months. Usually the Hungarian liked to keep him around as she'd often been told by customers that he made the best coffee and the tastiest sandwiches; but maybe she had sensed something wasn't quite right with him and that he needed to leave, quite possibly the fact that he'd fallen asleep for a good hour in the stock room. Although that being said, the Italian wasn't really sure what to do with himself now, he was so used to working constantly that he didn't really have any hobbies to occupy himself with and he didn't really have any friends, most had left for university.

He stopped dead on the other side of the road across from the The Vixen and stared straight ahead of him. His brother's stark warning from the night before was playing in his mind and he knew he was going to regret doing what he was thinking at that moment. Feliciano didn't care, Lovino didn't know he had left work this early, there was plenty of time for him to go and for him to return to the flat without his brother knowing. The Italian had made up his mind, he was going to go home.

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**I love Arthur as a police/detective person **

**Reviews are love :)**


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